One of Those Days
by DeAngelo'sMuse
Summary: Everybody has one of those days where everything goes wrong, you wanna go back to bed and say screw it. *Multiple stars in a series of one-shots* Give it a chance!
1. CM Punk

**A/N I've been having some rough days recently so I thought to myself *Gosh, those guys and gals must have rough days too, right?* so I'm gonna write about 'em to a bunch of songs that fit each star specifically.**

**This is a series of ONESHOTS. Okay, I warned you.**

**First Up is CM Punk (cause he's my hero)**

**Enjoy~ DeAngelo'sMuse**

* * *

><p>Song: Flagpole Sitta – Harvey Danger (it's better if you listen to the song at the same time. On repeat…yeah…okay) *Don't Own*<p>

* * *

><p><em>[I had visions, I was in them<br>I was looking into the mirror  
>to see a little bit clearer<br>the rottenness and evil in me]_

Philip Jack Brooks groaned as he woke up. Or rather, opened his eyes. He never truly slept, more like frequently cat napped. A while back doctors had suggested a sort of painkiller to take the edge off his occupational pain. Of course, he refused. It's against straight edge to do any sort of narcotic.

Gritting his teeth as he rolled his body out of bed, he was strongly reminded of the pain in his back. The tattooed star stumbled his way into the bathroom, regretting kicking his socks off during the night when his feet touched the cool tile.

Sometimes he just felt so god damn _old_. Staring at his face in the mirror, he sighed at the apparent bags under his deep hazel eyes. Turning on the faucet, he splashed his face with cool water and padded back into the main room.

_[Fingertips have memories  
>mine can't forget the curves of your body<br>and when I feel a bit naughty  
>I run it up the flagpole and see who salutes<br>(but no one ever does)]_

There were clothes strewn about the room and the clock already read eight thirty. "Well, that's just pretty darn fantastic. I'm going to miss my flight. Wahoo." As he grumbled to himself, Punk began to gather things up, changing into something more appropriate for public appearance. Maybe if he kept his head down the fans would leave him be.

That crick in his neck from the match against Jericho was really starting to bother him and the taxi he was riding in wasn't helping much either. Triple H could be seen at the front of the airport entrance, ready to rip Punk a new one. The straight edge savior sighed and cracked his knuckles. Should've stayed in bed.

Hunter _did_ rip him a new one as it is. Getting on his case about being late and blah blah blah. Punk stopped listening after 'you're not on time'. "Yeah, I realize that boss man. Mind shoving that clipboard up your ass while I get on the damn plane?" Hunter stared at him incredulously. Punk wasn't pleasant most of the time but he was at least civil when addressing others.

_[I'm not sick but I'm not well  
>and I'm so hot cause I'm in hell<br>Been around the world and found  
>that only stupid people are breeding<br>The cretins cloning and feeding  
>and I don't even own a TV]<em>

Everybody avoided the moody thirty-three year old as he went through security. Punk looked around and watched as all the idiotic people he ever thought could exist clustered in the middle of the bustling airport. He stepped through the full body scanner and frowned when the alarm went off.

"Excuse me, sir, but we need to search you for any metallic items," the officer standing at the checkpoint said. Punk rolled his eyes. This always fucking happened and they never listened when he tried to explain.

"It's the lip ring, I swear," he snapped, head beginning to pound. The officer, a big black woman, raised an eyebrow at his sass. She proceeded to pat him down as he banged his head against the metal detector with frustration. Of course, this set the damn alarm off again. Eventually, they let him continue on but his stormy mood was darkened even further.

_[Put me in the hospital for nerves  
>and then they had to commit me<br>You told them all I was crazy  
>They cut off my legs now I'm an amputee, god damn you<br>I'm not sick but I'm not well  
>and I'm so hot cause I'm in hell]<em>

Triple H settled all the stars down as they took their seats on the plane. Lucky CM Punk was stuck in between Dolph 'Barbie' Ziggler and Jack 'the all American' Swagger. Whoopee. Both obsessed over their looks way too much for the Second City Savior and he was about ten seconds away from strangling one of them.

Rubbing his face out of annoyance, he started drumming his fingers on the armrest he'd so generously been given thanks to Swagger. "How the hell did I get stuck in between you two?" Swagger ignored the remark but Ziggler never misses a thing, except maybe that one cowlick on the left side of his head.

"Are you saying you're too good to sit next to me?" Dolph asked. "I am perfection and I don't need your whining to mess up the beauty sleep I'm going to need." Punk tugged at the seat belt for the plane, completely locking it up and getting even further stuck in place.

_[I wanna publish 'zines  
>and rage against machines<br>I wanna pierce my tongue  
>it doesn't hurt, it feels fine<br>the trivial sublime  
>I'd like to turn off time<br>and kill my mind  
>you kill my mind]<em>

"Brooks, you're rooming with Miz," Hunter called as they all got off the bus taking them to the hotel in Miami. Mike glared at him and Punk returned it with a scowl. Sure, put the two biggest egos together in one room and let them have a battle of wits. Mike avoided Punk all the way until they got into their room where there just so happened to be no TV.

They didn't have a show that night so it was a free for all. No TV is perfectly fine with Punk but with Miz… There was constant whining as Punk read his book, staring at the words and wishing he could just throw the hardback at the other wrestler. "There's nothing to do." Punk looked up over his book at the 'Awesome One". Picking up the second book he'd brought, he tossed it at the younger star.

"Here, teach yourself how to read. Should keep you occupied for a couple of hours," he drawled, returning to his own literature. Miz stared at him blankly before flopping onto his bed and settling for whistling to himself. Punk's knuckles were turning white as his grip tightened on the hardback. Ten minutes went by and he couldn't take it anymore. "Would you shut your damn mouth? Don't make noises, don't whine; y'know what? Just go to sleep."

"Somebody woke up on the wrong side of the bed."

_[Paranoia paranoia  
>everybody's coming to get me<br>Just say you never met me  
>I'm going underground with the moles<br>hear the voices in my head  
>I swear to god it sounds like they're snoring<br>but if you're bored then you're boring  
>The agony and the irony, they're killing me<br>I'm not sick but I'm not well  
>and I'm so hot cause I'm in hell]<em>

When he finally fell into a light doze, past all of Miz's snoring, Punk allowed himself to relax. Of course, everybody has bad days. He has bad moments too. There are just a lot of them. Often. Especially around the work place.

Sometimes, he just has one of those days.

As he listened to the rhythmic snoring of his roommate, he wondered if tomorrow would be any better… _Probably not._

* * *

><p><strong>AN So, there we go. Just thought I'd try this idea out. If you like: awesome, review. If not: Well, do whatever but don't hate if you review. **

**Next up is Chris Jericho (I have _the best idea_ for this one)  
><strong>

**Review:)**


	2. Chris Jericho

**One of Those Days #2**

**A/N I _really_ don't like Chris Jericho but I heard this song and he just popped into my brain. Song: Break Stuff-Limp Bizkit (I suggest listening to this while reading)**

**x-heel-luvver-x: I totally understand. I'm a rower so I'm always busy when I'm not at school. The other day our coach made us run up and down a hill like twenty times and then I tripped and twisted my ankle right after I scraped like half the skin off my hands from trying to save myself from the fall :( Then I was told I would've made varsity if I hadn't fell. Plus, a family of raccoons got in my attic and shredded all my summer clothes so now I have to go shopping on a limited budget and get them out of the attic. This fic is my way of letting out frustration :)**

**Enjoy~ DeAngelo'sMuse**

* * *

><p><strong>Song: Break Stuff-Limp Bizkit (I suggest listening to this while reading) *I DO NOT OWN THIS*<br>**

* * *

><p><em>[Its just one of those days<br>When you don't wanna wake up  
>Everything is fucked<br>Everybody sucks  
>You don't really know why<br>But you want justify  
>Rippin' someone's head off]<em>

"Who're you trying to prove it to? Me or you? Maybe I just found a way to be better than you." CM Punk's words echoed in Chris Jericho's head as he rolled out of bed. A few bones cracked here and there as he did his usual morning routine. The only thing he did differently was staring in the mirror at himself. The wrinkles were getting to him and even at forty-two he was feeling older than he is. Curling his hands into fists, he slammed his bathroom door shut, probably waking up the person in the next hotel room over.

He wasn't thirsty or hungry but that didn't stop him from grabbing a beer out of the mini bar in his room, cracking it open as he walked down the hall to the café. He passed Wade Barret on his way and the British star gave him a raised eyebrow. "Little early to be enjoying a cold one, isn't it?" Chris sent him a chilling glare to which the other star just shrugged and walked on.

_[No human contact  
>And if you interact<br>Your life is all contract  
>Your best bet is to stay away motherfucker<br>It's just one of those days!]_

Tossing the empty beer bottle in a trash can, Jericho made his way into the cafeteria for an easy breakfast. He _really_ needed a cup of coffee before anybody talked to him again. He just felt so…irked by Punk's words. Something just made him want to punch somebody in the face. He considered that possibility as he got in line behind Cody Rhodes and Randy Orton. Picking a fight with Orton was a death wish but messing with Cody would be even worse. Not only would he fight back, but Randy would back the kid up one hundred percent.

"How're you doing this morning, Mr. Lite Brite?" a smarmy voice asked politely from behind him. All of Chris' muscles tensed and he felt his temper boil. He hated that. He hated that Punk could get him angry so fast. That used to be his job; pissing off everybody in his path was _his_ gimmick.

_[Its all about the he says she says bullshit  
>I think you better quit<br>Lettin' shit slip  
>Or you'll be leavin with a fat lip<br>Its all about the he says she says bullshit  
>I think you better quit talkin that shit<br>(Punk, so come and get it)]_

Ignoring Punk was all he could do but he was biting his cheek to keep any snide retorts in. Sure, he could respond, or he could play that mind game right back. War is a two person game. He turned and smirked, not bothering to actually say anything. His fists still curled so tight that he thought he might need another drink to loosen up or he'd break skin with his nails.

After breakfast, Jericho was scheduled to a meeting with Creative and he absolutely hated it. They always took forever. In fact, this time they spent a whole hour explaining that 'no, he couldn't beat Punk's ass up the ramp' and then proceeded to say he _could_ 'tell the WWE universe about Punk's alcoholic father'. So instead of doing his job, he'll just seem like a giant asshole. He was getting too old for this. How do Hunter and Shawn do this everyday?

_[Its just one of those days  
>Feelin' like a freight train<br>First one to complain  
>Leaves with a blood stain<br>Damn right I'm a maniac  
>You better watch your back<br>'Cause I'm fuckin' up your program]  
><em>

Ah, the show was that evening. He had already filmed his piece about Punk's father and he honestly felt kind of…bad? It's unusual for him but then again, there's always a first for everything. Unfortunately, a few of his coworkers decided they didn't fucking like him today and sent him disgusted glares. Vince called him into his office and Jericho felt a headache coming on. Some days just suck, y'know?

Vince ripped him a new one for this little plot getting out of hand after Elimination Chamber. Wrestlemania isn't too far off and Jericho was already apprehensive. After getting out of _that_ hot water, he was tossed back to his 'officemates' and they had a bone to pick with him. Maybe making enemies wasn't the best way to go about things but he didn't care. His anger and frustration flared and he punched a wall once he was alone.

_[And if your stuck up  
>You just lucked up<br>Next in line to get fucked up  
>Your best bet is to stay away motherfucker<br>Its just one of those days!]_

His match was up next and he was facing Sheamus. That stupid oaf was going to handicap him right before WMXVIII and Chris was _pissed_. Everybody has this thing for fucking him over. He was the _best in the world_ when he was younger. _He _set records. _He_ was the one to be the best heel ever. Where was the respect? The recognition? He'd had it so long and suddenly Y2J didn't matter anymore.

Sheamus landed a Brogue kick on Chris and Jericho went down fast, holding his face. He glared at the mat as Sheamus rolled him over and went for the pin. He kicked out but his energy was practically done. Only thing left to do is find a way to do the 'walls of Jericho'.

_[I feel like shit  
>My suggestion is to keep your distance cuz right now im dangerous<br>We've all felt like shit  
>And been treated like shit<br>All those motherfuckers that want to step up  
>I hope you know I pack a chain saw<br>I'll skin your ass raw  
>And if my day keeps goin' this way I just might break somethin' tonight...]<em>

He lost. After he kicked out he tried the 'walls of Jericho' but Sheamus is a big guy. He broke out of that maneuver and went in for the Celtic Cross. Jericho was done and that was it. He rolled out of the ring spitting mad and glared heavily at the cameras as he made his way backstage.

"Good job, Christopher, good job," Punk clapped, taunting him. "Sometimes Karma is a bitch, huh?" Punk laughed but the anger resulting from Jericho's video was in his eyes. Chris said nothing and walked past him, clutching his shoulder which was hurting like a bitch after the match.

_[And if my day keeps goin' this way I just might break somethin' tonight...  
>I hope you know I pack a chain saw<br>I'll skin your ass raw  
>And if my day keeps goin' this way I just might break somethin' tonight...<br>I hope you know I pack a chain saw  
>I'll skin your ass raw<br>And if my day keeps goin' this way I just might break your fuckin' face tonight!]_

Miz walked past Jericho and smirked; _wrong move_. Miz had been thinking of something offhandedly but Chris thought it was aimed at him as a taunt. So, Jericho having misunderstood, Chris pulled his fist back and slammed it into Miz's face. Blood poured from the Awesome One's nose as he looked at Jericho first with confusion, then with anger. "What the fuck was that for?"

Seeing how he screwed up, he passed it off as he just felt like being an asshole. Walking off towards his dressing room, he slammed the door and grabbed all his stuff. All he wanted was to climb back into his fucking bed and start this day all over again.

_[Give me somethin' to break!  
>Give me somethin' to break!<br>Just give me somethin' to break!  
>How bout your fuckin' face!<br>I hope you know I pack a chain saw, what!...  
>A chain saw, what!...<br>A motherfucking chain saw, what!...  
>So come and get it<em>

_Its all about the he says she says bullshit_  
><em>I think you better quit<em>  
><em>Lettin' shit slip<em>  
><em>Or you'll be leavin with a fat lip<em>  
><em>Its all about the he says she says bullshit<em>  
><em>I think you better quit talkin that shit<em>  
><em>(Punk, so come and get it)]<em>

Jericho passed Punk on his way out, a smirk on the younger star's face that just screamed at Chris to wipe it off. Instead, he walked out and got a cab to the hotel. He threw his bag on the floor in the corner of his hotel room and growled unhappily. He kicked the frame of the bed and regretted it when his foot hurt afterwards.

Changing into comfy clothes, he threw himself on the bed with a pout. "Karma's a bitch." Those wise words of Punk were the new phrase running through his head. He lifted a tired arm and flipped his middle finger up at the ceiling. He was going to the bed and the world could burn for all he cared.

* * *

><p><strong>AN Yeah…so Jericho was hard to write. I had a great idea and totally forgot it so whoops ^_^' Anyways, hope it was okay. Reviews are appreciated! I'm so glad I'm done with this song cause I listened to it like 200 times while writing this to keep my writing in the mood.**

**Oh, Cody Rhodes is up next!  
><strong>


	3. Cody Rhodes

**A/N If you like anything that has to do with Cody Rhodes (like me :3), go to youtube and check out the video 'Crying Out-Cody Rhodes WWE' made by Shoopdancer2504. It's pretty freaking awshum :]**

**Okay, I'm done advertising. I don't own anything!**

**Enjoy~ DeAngelo'sMuse**

* * *

><p><strong>Song: Crying Out – Shinedown<strong>

* * *

><p><em>[Don't use a weakness<br>Don't change the subject  
>Don't ask the questions if you fear the answer<br>You look distorted, lets make you clearer  
>Lets flip the switch and use the smoke and mirrors<br>Re-invent yourself today  
>Re-invent your world today]<em>

He'd had enough. The mask was too much for him to handle. Cody ripped the plastic off his face and threw it at his door. Randy was sitting on the bed across from his trying not to say anything. "Codes…"

"No, this is ridiculous. People are going to hate me. I'll be a horrible heel. Fuck this shit!" Cody snapped, throwing his t-shirt at the growing pile of laundry he needed to do. Randy had been trying to calm his protégée down but nothing was working, Maybe he just needed alone time?

The Viper got up and walked out of the room. Cody could throw a fit on his own and then Randy would come and check on him later. Hopefully he was wise enough not to drink himself into oblivion…

_[Crying out for the last time  
>Clear a space for the warning signs<br>Crying out for the last time  
>And there's no turning back now that you've opened up to your mind]<em>

Sitting down on his bed, Cody tried to think of something nice. He thought of his dog, and then he thought of winning his first match. When he was _finally_ cooled down enough to actually think, he got up and got dressed in street clothes. Scowling and putting the mask back on, he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up over his head. Hopefully no one would recognize him. The mask was really necessary since he _did_ have facial reconstruction surgery. It wasn't just a gimmick to push Rey Mysterio over.

The streets of the town they were at were relatively empty at nine in the morning. Cody stopped into a bookstore, his guilty pleasure. Sure, most of the guys were pretty smart and went to college but after becoming wrestlers…that pretty much stopped. He secretly loved to read anything he found interesting. He found a book he really wanted but when he checked his pockets he realized he'd left all his money and wallet in general back at the hotel. He cursed and put the book back, glaring at a passer by.

_[What guides your vision?  
>What holds the balance?<br>Don't think that I can't see you shake and tremble  
>Well I know your nervous this world is scary<br>You have to let go all the madness you carry]_

Having taken to walking on the streets again, Cody groaned and just wandered. He got a phone call that drew attention from anybody that heard his trademark theme as his ringtone. Picking up quickly, he regretted answering. "What do you want, _Dustin_?" Cody sighed. His brother had been calling him a lot recently.

"I wanted to see what's going on with you, Codes. Why're ya actin' so weird now a days," Dustin asked, his voice scratchy over the connection. Cody rubbed a hand down his face with frustration and thought about how to answer. His mood was dropping fast and a storm cloud seemed to be hovering over him.

"I'm going into a tunnel…schhrrrr…Dus…I…an't…you," he faked and ended the call. Shutting it off seemed like a better idea since Dustin would no doubt be calling back. Randy would call too; just to be sure he was okay.

_[Re-invent yourself today  
>Re-invent your world today]<em>

A fan spotted him but instead of asking for an autograph, he just laughed and pointed at the mask. Cody's cheeks reddened and he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt further down on his face. Walking back to the hotel, he got his gear for the gym.

When you have nothing better to do, workout. He'd lived by that motto for so long and he had the body to prove it. Unfortunately, he'd received an injury to his leg so all he could do at the moment was lift weights. Some of the other stars were there as well but they paid him no attention. He hated that they underestimated him so much. They all look at him like he only got here through heritage. He actually had to 'train' to get in; he didn't get in on his father's legacy.

_[There is no turning back now  
>Everything you've ever wanted<br>Everything in this moment  
>There is no turning back now]<em>

The match went horribly wrong. Randy didn't mean it and Cody knew that. Well, he didn't know much of anything right now with all the blood gushing from his head. Even after getting the staples in his head, he couldn't help the feeling of dread when his phone rang. A call he couldn't ignore awaited him. Randy put it on speaker after he apologized profusely.

"Cody. What in the hell happened? I turn on the TV and I see you bleedin to death out there. I didn't raise a bleeder or a loser. You better be winnin that next match." Cody frowned and tried not to raise his hands and run them over his now damaged head.

"It won't happen again, sir," he answered before allowing Randy to hang up. He felt like throwing up. Today sucked, tomorrow would suck, and he has a concussion. Guess that means no sleep for him tonight. Or Randy and a sleep deprived Viper is a cranky one. Then again, this is his entire fault anyways so Cody saw it as a rightful punishment.

_[Crying out for the last time  
>Clear a space for the warning signs<br>Crying out for the last time  
>And there's no turning back now that you've opened up to your mind]<em>

All through the night he was woken up every hour. This had to be one of the worst days of his young life. Randy was getting pissed and falling asleep himself. When he finally slept for real, he could only hope he wouldn't wake up with a migraine. "It was just one of those days," he assured himself before dozing off.

* * *

><p><strong>AN Cody's is so short D: It's cause I don't like repeating lyrics in a song very often and I have a formula when writing… anyways, not that anybody cares about that, I hope the chapter was good :)**

**Review!**

**Next up is Triple H (I really like heel characters…)**


	4. Triple H

**One of Those Days- Day #4**

**A/N So… I love this guy. I've watched him wrestle since I was a little kid and I always thought he was the coolest thing since sliced bread. Here ya go:**

* * *

><p><strong>Song: World So Cold – Three Days Grace (I Don't Own!)<strong>

* * *

><p><em>[I never thought I'd feel this<br>Guilty and I'm broken down inside  
>Livin' with myself nothing but lies]<em>

He felt so empty when he woke up each morning and put on his suit for work. He loved his daughters, his wife, the WWE…but he missed being himself. He's Paul Levesque: The COO in the monkey suit. He used to be Triple H: The Cerebral Assassin, Hunter Hurst Helmsley; _the Game_.

What happened to that?

When he woke up next to his wife one morning, he could already tell what kind of day it would be; a bad one. The hotel was quiet and when he rolled over to see what time it was, he was rewarded with a bright clock reading 4:15 AM.

_[I always thought I'd make it  
>But never knew I'd let it get so bad<br>Livin' with myself is all I have]_

There was much to do as he got ready and left Stephanie asleep. He needed to get to the arena, set some things up, sign some papers, and most importantly talk to Vince. There was a little issue with the Punk/Jericho storyline that needed to be cleared up and having angry stars knocking down his office doors isn't something he's looking forward to.

Laurinaitis, well, he was Hunter's little thorn in the side. Not only was it his fault he got a huge vote of 'no confidence' but the man loved to rub it in Hunter's face; just like he was at the very moment during their meeting. "Well, Hunter," Johnny's dull voice chimed smugly. "What is it we need to talk about today?"

"Can it, John. We're all hear to discuss the fact that revealing things as personal as Punk's father's history is going too far. Did anyone think to get his permission first?" Hunter asked, looking around at all the faces in the conference room. They stared blankly and he felt a migraine coming on as he rubbed his face despairingly.

_[I feel numb  
>I can't come to life<br>I feel like I'm frozen in time_

_Livin' in a world so cold, wasting away_  
><em>Livin' in a shell with no soul since you've gone away<em>  
><em>Livin' in a world so cold, counting the days<em>  
><em>Since you've gone away, you've gone away]<em>

Where was the true Paul Levesque? He felt lost as he numbly walked backstage at the show. Some of the stars sent him wary glances. Punk simply smirked where John Cena nodded solemnly. Today he would be telling Shawn that he declines the Undertaker's challenge. He stood at Gorilla Position and began his walk out as "The Game" boomed through the arena.

Everybody was watching expectantly and after all the controversy, Hunter just felt tired and angry. He was getting too old for this. Shawn coming all the way here just to get him back was ridiculous. This was all way too much and it was Vince's idea. His father-in-law had taken it upon himself to get the 'old Hunter' back in the stupidest way imaginable.

_[Do you ever feel me?  
>Do you ever look deep down inside<br>Starin' at yourself, paralyzed?]_

"Look, after last week I wanted to be here live with everybody else to hear the awesome news of you facing the Undertaker at Wrestlemania. So let's hear it," Shawn said, pointing at Hunter and letting him have the spotlight. Hunter sighed; there was no easy way to do this.

"And as excited as I am to see you, Shawn, I wish you would've called me if that was the only reason you came here because, uh, I'm _not_ going to be facing the Undertaker at Wrestlemania this year," Hunter said, shuffling awkwardly but looking at Shawn to get the point across. There was a chorus of boos. "I thought I made it pretty clear last week, y'know…"

"Look, I don't mean to interrupt you and you know I understand. I understand, You've gotta do the 'thing' with the suit and that's cool buddy. I've always been there for ya and I always will but let's forget the suit stuff." Shawn was trying to be persistent but as always, Hunter was stubborn. Triple H felt broken and this was as torturous as it gets; having to deny your best friend on live television.

_[I feel numb  
>I can't come to life<br>I feel like I'm frozen in time_

_Livin' in a world so cold, wasting away_  
><em>Livin' in a shell with no soul since you've gone away<em>  
><em>Livin' in a world so cold, counting the days<em>  
><em>Since you've gone away, you've gone away]<em>

"I know what I have to do to beat him again, Shawn. To beat him I have to _end _him. Like I said, I'm not…I'm not willing to do that, Shawn. I'm not that guy anymore," Triple H sighed, defeated. This was not how he planned to handle the show tonight. Vince had called five minutes before the show to warn him of this. No time to prepare.

"Hold on, you're not that guy? _You're not that guy?_ That's exactly who you are! That's what you do, you finish people. You're a closer. You end careers. You step on throats. You have no mercy. You have no compassion, that's what makes you the Game," Shawn protested. This was all going dismally wrong. Triple H stared at his best friend wordlessly. There was nothing he could say; that was who he _used_ to be. "What do you mean that's…not who you are anymore?" He went on to talk about how the suit had become him and Hunter hated that he agreed.

"You don't understand," he replied weakly but Shawn was on a roll now, nothing was stopping him.

"I do know that when a man challenges you and you back down, that makes you a _coward_." Shawn hit a nerve and Triple H was about to come back to life right in front of thousands of eyes.

_[I'm too young to lose my soul  
>I'm too young to feel this old<br>So long, I'm left behind  
>I feel like I'm losing my mind]<em>

"No, you don't understand what's going on here, you can't! You sit there on your ranch with your wife and your kids. Not a care in the world, Shawn. I've got responsabilities!" He flailed between being angry and being undeniably depressed. This was all true. Shawn had what he could never have and that was peace of mind. "Real life responsibilities. Like it or not, whether anybody likes it or not, I don't give a damn whether they do or not! This, all of this, all of it is going to be _mine_ and it's my responsibility and that responsibility weighs like a ton on my shoulders." Oh how he wished it didn't.

"Even now, you look at the Undertaker like an opponent and sure, for years that's how I looked at it too he was just someone to go through. I don't look at it that way anymore, Shawn, I can't!" Hunter continued, seeing the look of disapproval in his best friend's eyes. In the eyes of so many he was failing and there was nothing he could do to stop it; to fix it. He was a runaway train ready to crash any second.

"Look me in the eye and tell me _'no'_," Shawn growled and Hunter knew what he needed to do. It would disappoint many and he wished otherwise but the suit was important. He got nose to nose with Shawn and raised the mic to his lips.

"No."

_[Do you ever feel me?  
>Do you ever look deep down inside<br>Starin' at your life, paralyzed?_

_Livin' in a world so cold, wasting away_  
><em>Livin' in a shell with no soul since you've gone away<em>  
><em>Livin' in a world so cold, counting the days<em>  
><em>Since you've gone away, you've gone away from me]<em>

It was deserted backstage after that segment and all he wanted to do was sleep. Maybe a few drinks on the way there. He grabbed a beer out of the common area's fridge and popped it open. Nobody bothered him as he walked out, back to the hotel.

Stephanie didn't question his mood as he climbed into their hotel room bed that night. He stayed quiet and awake for hours. Sometimes he just felt like it was one of those days. That was, until it turned into one of those days _everyday_.

* * *

><p><strong>AN So here's Triple H. This series is fun to write. I own nothing.**

**Review!**


	5. Randy Orton

**A/N Forgot to mention last chapter but next chapter (this one) is Randy Orton's.**

**One of Those Days Day #5**

**Enjoy~DeAngelo'sMuse**

* * *

><p><strong>Song: Get Up! – KoRn feat. Skrillex (I Don't own)<strong>

* * *

><p><em>[I Am Clearly Broken And No One Knows What To Do<em>

_Pieces Of The Puzzle Don't Fit So I Pound Them Into You_

_Itching Is The Pulse Inside Creeping Out To Come Alive_

_It's Just Doing What It's Gonna Do]_

Randy Orton rubbed his stubbly cheeks in frustration. There wasn't anything he could do about his situation. Sam was getting testy about dealing with Alanna all on her own and he'd tried and pleaded with her to just hang on; that he'd be home in a week.

"Randy, you okay?" Cody Rhodes asked, passing the Viper on his way to the hotel's café. It was still only five in the morning but Randy couldn't sleep anyways with all this drama building up. He had a lit cigarette in his hand and he was enjoying a smoke outside the lobby doors when Cody had walked up.

"I'm fine, Codes. Just stuff with Sam," he replied, tossing the cig to the ground and stomping it out. Cody nodded solemnly. If anybody knew how the Viper was feeling at any given moment, it was his best friend Codes.

_[Times Are Looking Grim These Days_

_Holding Onto Everything _

_It's Hard To Draw The Line]_

The storyline with Kane was closed for discussion the night before last and Randy knew it. He was supposed to lose at Wrestlemania but he couldn't figure why. After all, he's still the Legend Killer. He frowned at everybody he passed as he entered the locker room. Cena was there trying to be the overly cheerful Boy Scout he is but nobody was honestly looking forward to WMXVIII right now. Except Punk but he's an enigma in Randy's opinion and nothing is normal about that.

His practice with Wade Barret was going fairly decent until he fell awkwardly on his back and heard a loud crack. Barret must have heard it too because he dropped down and asked if Randy was alright. For a moment he was numb all over and he was afraid he'd done some real damage. Moments later he could feel again and he was standing up shakily. He assured Wade he would be fine after a hot shower.

Barret didn't question anything and let it go. He and Randy may not be friends but he didn't _actually_ want to hurt the guy.

_[I Can't Wait To Rip My Eyes Out And Look At You_

_Peace Through Pain Is Pleasure Especially When It's Done By You_

_Itching Is The Pulse Inside Creeping Out To Come Alive_

_It's Just Doing What It's Gonna Do]_

The medic declared it a minor problem with a disc in his back. He'd be cleared for WM but he would not be in the show later today. Randy punched a wall in his hotel room, hissing when pain shot through his knuckles and down his injured spine. There was nothing left to do but sleep on his bed. He debated whether he wanted to get on his bus or just stay in the hotel. The stairs didn't seem like a pleasant option with his back already hurting so he settled for the lumpy mattress in the room.

His cell rang about two hours later and his wife was completely pissed. "When the hell are you getting home? I'm taking Alanna to my mom's house for a little while until you can get your schedule arranged to help us out. Don't bother calling," she snapped before hanging up. He'd maybe said two words before getting cut off, throwing the phone at the wall.

Vince had called twenty minutes later to see if he was doing any better and when he said he wasn't he got a firm lecture on making money. Agreeing in all the right places, he got off the phone and took a restless nap.

_[Times Are Looking Grim These Days_

_Holding Onto Everything _

_It's Hard To Draw The Line_

_And I'm, I'm Hiding In This Empty Space_

_Tortured By My Memories of what I Left Behind]_

When he woke back up, there was a loud bang. Startled, he sat up and looked for the source, only to find that it was Cody, tripping and falling on the ground. Blue eyes looked up at him drowsily from the ground. Checking the clock on the nightstand, he saw that his nap hadn't exactly been short. It was one in the morning. "Cody," he hissed but the younger star just giggled clumsily.

Alcohol and Cody Rhodes don't mix too well and Randy was frustrated already. This was just the icing on the goddamn cake. Not only was his back out of order but Cody was shitfaced and ready to puke all over the floor. He hauled his ass out of bed and nudged Codes with his foot.

An hour later and he was back in bed, thinking that this couldn't get any worse. It had only been one of those days where he should've stayed in bed. Instead he stayed awake thinking about Sam and what to do about her. He thought about when they met and when Alanna was born. This was going in a bad direction and he tried to block everything out but it just wasn't working.

_[Times Are Looking Grim These Days_

_Holding Onto Everything _

_It's Hard To Draw The Line_

_And I'm, I'm Hiding In This Empty Space_

_Tortured By My Memories of what I Left Behind]_

Those memories haunted him but he'd gone for his dream of being a wrestler like his father and grandfather so there was nothing to feel bad about, right? He'd met Sam _after_ he'd gotten the job and she'd said she was all good with everything but that had apparently changed.

Cody's drunken snoring was driving him crazy and he put a pillow over his head as he tried to leave consciousness behind. It helped somewhat hand the only thing he could think was that he should've gotten on the bus.

Just one of those days where he should've stayed in bed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN Okay, this was not my best but I switched my song halfway through writing it so I went back to rewrite and stuff.**

**Anyways, **x-heel-luvver-x**: Thank you for the compliments (especially on the music!) I love Triple H and he really did cause a lot of (good) changes during attitude era. Anyways, hope you keep ready :)**

**Review!**

**Next up is the Miz!**


	6. The Miz

**A/N Here's Miz's chapter :) So I was originally going to use Miz's old theme song Getting Away With Murder but that didn't seem like a bad day kind of song, y'know? So instead, I shuffled my IPod and found this!**

* * *

><p><strong>Song: Not Again - STAIND<strong>

* * *

><p><em>[Do you feel like you're falling?<br>You've taken this step  
>In front of you is further from the truth<br>You fall apart in front of me again  
>Again!]<em>

Again, Michael Mizanin stood in front of a mirror staring into his dull, tired blue eyes that usually carried so much confidence. This was the third morning in a row that he'd stood and stared, not sure what he was looking for. Sometimes he tried to find the old him, the one that was innocent and trusted. Other times…other times he just tried to justify the actions he's done. Most of the time he can't.

Last year he'd been relevant; the WWE champ! He even defended himself at the 'grandest stage of them all' during WMXXVII but that was last year. This year he wasn't even supposed to have a match. He went from everything to nothing. No, he didn't blame Punk for a thing; in fact, Miz found himself admiring Punk for his audacity. No, more he blamed himself and he would never admit that to a soul, he hardly did to himself. There were things he could've done. Backstabbing R-Truth wasn't exactly a bright idea and truthfully it was Creative that thought it up. But he executed it so he set himself up for being the most hated.

_[Denial isn't the way to forgiveness  
>you always swore that I was wrong]<em>

Stepping away from that mirror, the one reflecting the disappointment in his own eyes, he left the quiet hotel room he'd been issued and walk down the hall. Nobody stopped him and who would? He's earned no respect and he doesn't even like to think about how right that is. There are few who still talk to him without caution.

On stage he can't keep his mouth shut, words come out like vomit. Behind the scenes he rarely talks to the others. Most assume its arrogance and hey, if he didn't know himself he'd think the same thing. No, instead he keeps his mouth shut so he won't ruin anything else in his life. No more relationships throw aside. He is not being arrogant, but he _is_ being antisocial which has gotten him into more than enough trouble on many occasions.

_[No taste for the crow you feed me  
>Not again<br>It's not a matter of if I care  
>Not again<br>What an intricate web you're weaving  
>Did it again]<em>

While he walks he decides to go for coffee. Some fans are supportive and he signs some autographs but most think him a pompous douchebag. Miz can't help but think it's a damn shame that nobody gives him a chance. Even when he first started at the WWE he was given nothing. Who's gonna take the guy from a reality show seriously? Of course, there was the being made fun of and getting kicked out of the locker room for 6 months. Yeah, that wasn't fun.

A long time ago, in some obscure interview that nobody probably remembers, Mike recalls telling the world that 'the Miz' is his _alter ego_. Alter ego means opposite, correct? Of course, nobody bothers to recall that like he does and so they assume that he doesn't talk because he's some super privileged prick. There's only ever been a handful of people who knew the real him and they'd gone.

_[So you try not to follow  
>While the clock fails to sleep<br>So here we are back where it began  
>And toe to toe I stand in front of you again<br>Again]_

In the locker room, which he can now enter without ridicule, Miz takes his time to get ready for practice. Thankfully there was one person whom had agreed to come and help him out today. It was an unusual offer but Mike needed a partner and when Cody offered he had to accept.

Cody is a good person, no doubt about it. Mike took the time to really get to know the kid over the past year and he was glad he did. Rhodes has potential like no other. "Hey, Mike, ready to practice?" said potential had entered the locker room as well, already dressed from what Miz assumed was an earlier practice. He nodded and Cody took the silent affirmation perfectly.

_[Denial isn't the way to forgiveness  
>you always swore that I was wrong]<em>

The practice is easy. They bounce a few clotheslines off each other, a few more personally designed moves as well. It's easy going and Mike is grateful for it. He's felt a little off, like a thunder cloud has been hovering over his head for months. Cody had questioned his mood but the answer he got was vague. There was simply no way to put it in words. Miz just felt…blank.

Not like there was any reason to. He has looks, money, an amazing job, women who'd fall at his feet, tons of still loyal fans, but it wasn't what he needed. And that made him feel empty; like he wouldn't come out of this alive or in one piece of himself.

John Laurinaitis approached him after his practice and they discussed 'team Johnny'. Miz felt slightly lifted as he was told he'd be part of the match at Wrestlemania. It might not be the side he'd like to be on (personally he preferred Teddy Long), but he'd take the proposal and run with it. If this was his chance then fine, he'd take it.

_[Not again  
>No taste for the crow you feed me<br>Not again  
>It's not a matter of if I care<br>Not again  
>What an intricate web you're weaving<br>Again and again]_

As he returned to his hotel room he got that pained empty feeling again. A dull ache of who he used to be. He was chipper, fun loving, always cooked great food, and had tons of true friends… now _this_. Sure, there was a lot on the road to where he is now but he just wasn't quite happy with it.

Something is just _missing_. Something important that he's yet to figure out. And all he can hope to do as he lays in his bed to sleep is that it will change. That he can change his future and that tomorrow he won't be staring at himself in the mirror wondering where he left himself behind.

But his hope dwindles more and more as he becomes isolated and antisocial. The more people begin to reach out to him again, the less chance there is of him having nightmares of dying frozen within himself.

Just one of those days, y'know?

* * *

><p><strong>AN …this is really depressing… Wow… Um anyways, review? Oh and check out the song! It's really fitting for the mood of this writing!**

**~DeAngelo'sMuse**

**Next is Edge because I freaking love him and his Hall of Fame speech is making me cry as I watch it like right now...  
><strong>


	7. Edge

**A/N Here is Edge's chapter. Look, it's going to be funny; it's going to be **_**sad**_**. I hope my writing can evoke emotions in other people beside myself. I am one of the many who can only think: **Thank You Edge.

* * *

><p><strong>I felt it only right to use 'Metalingus' by Alter Bridge if only as a tribute to a company altering man.<strong>

* * *

><p>You think you know me.<p>

_[I've been defeated and brought down  
>Dropped to my knees when hope ran out<br>The time has come to change my ways]_

Yup, today is the day. Today is the day that he, Adam Copeland, would be giving his retirement speech at the Hall of Fame. "How did I make it this far…" he questioned, "without cutting my hair?" He laughed to himself as he still lay in his bed, rubbing his head and missing the long golden tresses he used to have.

Even in the mirror all he could do was smile. He'd had a good run. He changed the way things were done. It was weird that he was at his actual home right now. Sure, his flight is in like six hours but whatever, y'know? He stretched and patted his dogs, picking out the suit he'd be wearing. He held it up and looked at it in front of his closet. "You done good, Edge. Guess it's time to be Adam Copeland again."

Today wouldn't be particularly bad. In fact, he was somewhat excited to see all the fans at his Hall of Fame ceremony tonight. He's got a lot of things to say. "Let's face, when do I not have something to say?" Edge laughed again, hanging the suit up while he stepped into his bathroom for a shower.

_[On this day I see clearly everything has come to life  
>A bitter place and a broken dream<br>And we'll leave it all, leave it all behind]_

No, he wouldn't be upset as he got on the plane, packing nothing more than an overnight bag. He didn't have his ring gear with him because for the first time ever…he wouldn't truly need it. Weird feeling, huh? Again, he found himself patting down his cropped hair.

"Adam! Man, it's so great to see you again," Christian greeted when he found Edge walking in behind the arena's curtains. The ceremony was set to begin in about three hours but there was still a lot of work to do. "I can't wait to induct you later. I'm happy for ya."

"Thanks, Jay, I'm glad we got to work together and you're a great friend," Edge said, a small smirk playing across his lips as he rested a hand on Christian 'Jay' Reso's shoulder. They'd been great together and Christian felt that this was truly the Rated-R Superstar's greatest moment.

_[I'll never long for what might have been  
>Regret won't waste my life again<br>I won't look back  
>I'll fight to remain]<em>

"You know, my best tag team partner, and it's not Christian, was my mom. She encouraged me from the start. I was sixteen and saying 'I'm gonna become a superstar wrestler!' and she said 'alright, go do it'. So thank you, Mom," Edge said, the later part of his speech bringing him to tears. He'd given a few speeches in the last couple weeks but this was the hardest.

"Heh, I thought I could get through this whole speech," he sniffed, still with a bright smile on his face. "Guess not. Well, anyways, I'm glad to have been honored this way," he finished and the typical music for the Hall of Fame began to play. Fans stood up and cheered but it felt all wrong. "Whoa whoa whoa hold up. Stop, stop, stop," Adam said, waving his arms in dismiss.

"I hate that music. It's like 'da da dada da' and everybody stands up to clap like 'yeah Hall of Fame'. I'm doing this my way with some good rock music," He stated and pointed over at the sound crew. They cued the music he'd chosen and the crowd went nuts. This was how he wanted to go out. Like going out with a bang! The smile on his face was a _true_ smile. He closed the show and he felt okay.

_[On this day it's so real to me  
>Everything has come to life<br>Another chance to chase a dream  
>Another chance to feel<br>Chance to feel alive]_

"Hey, gonna miss you, Adam," Kane, known as a monster though truly not, said, patting Copeland on the shoulder. Edge couldn't help his carefree laugh.

"Yeah, I'm gonna miss your sick twisted schemes too, _Glenn_," Edge laughed, using Kane's real name. They embraced briefly, the awkward height difference gaining a laugh from them both. CM Punk, Randy Orton, Triple H, and many others paid their own respects with handshakes, short hugs, a joke or two. This was easier and harder than Adam thought it would be.

"Guess it's my time to get going. Just two more stops before I'm out to the hotel. Jay, where'd ya go?" he yelled backstage and he felt like chuckling. He'd done that so many times it was ridiculous to think he wouldn't do it ever again. Not even tomorrow after the appearance at Wrestlemania.

_[Fear will kill me, all I could be  
>Lift these sorrows<br>Let me breathe, could you set me free  
>Could you set me free]<em>

They talked for a while and it was a weird feeling. Jay had always kinda been there and this was the end. But at the same time…isn't it kind of a beginning? He'd always kind of liked to look on the brightside. After a hug and a last goodbye, Adam was off to sign his resignation papers in Vince's office. The last time he'd been in that office was to discuss his neck injury and now at 38 he's going to discuss retiring.

Vince was almost kind about it but everyone knows it's hard for the decrepit old man to be 'nice'. Adam is a different kind of person who knows how to handle the McMahon attitude. No biggie. He signed the papers and agreed that he'd be there for the Wrestlemania appearance but right after that it's a flight home.

As he settled into a good book that night in the hotel (yes, he reads), he smirked and couldn't help the grin on his face. "You think you know me?" When the words spilled from his lips he couldn't help the hysterical laugh that bubbled up. "Who even thought that _that_ would become such a memorable phrase? It's like 'I'm sexy and I know it' becoming popular as like Christian's phrase except that wouldn't happen. Ha," he couldn't hold it in. He was busting a gut.

Finally he was able to clam down and boy was he wiped. Laughing rakes a lot of energy. He settled into bed with one last laugh and a smile on his face. One chapter of his life closed and the next begun.

Sometimes the phrase 'one of those days' doesn't have to be bad.

* * *

><p><strong>AN So…good enough to be called a tribute? I miss Edge already and I couldn't find his real speech (but I watched on TV at one point) so I put what I remembered. I hope this turned out okay.**

**~DeAngelo'sMuse**


	8. John Cena

**A/N I only saw this as fitting for The Champ. I've found that Cena's kinda grown on me, y'know? I didn't like him too much at first cause he was fan favorite and well, acts like a Boy Scout but he's really not that bad.**

**Song: Homesick (Acoustic) – A Day To Remember**

* * *

><p><em>[Everything around me seems so much different from where I'm from<em>

_And at this rate I think my fates been sealed_

_This life's so unpredictable _

_Well go, continue to live a life that _

_No one knows_

_Where's this gonna go?]_

He's screwed. That pretty much sums it up right there. Completely 'bologna, fudge, and mustard' screwed. It's almost funny how much he's done for. Complete toast. Wrestlemania moment? Nope, out the window!

"Hey, Chain Gang, watch ya up to?" Punk asked as he passed John. Cena had been on his way to a signing and well, he kinda zoned out there for a moment. Punk waved a white-gloved hand in his face with a cocked eyebrow. "Earth to John, come in Boy Scout."

"Huh? Whoa, sorry, totally out of it for a minute there," John stuttered. Punk shook his head and John stared at him blankly. "I need to go get ready for the sighing err…signing," he said lamely.

"Yeah, you know what. You should probably go to bed early, bud. The stress is getting to you," Punk advised, patting John on the back before leaving on his chipper way. John agreed but when you're part of such a big empire you rarely find time for rest. Not that Punk didn't understand, he's an insomniac himself. Cena already had all his gear, now it's time to face all the fans and the haters.

The haters were something he'd been taking kind of hard lately. All the stars have people that don't like them. Of course, none too many have t-shirts advertising a hope for their failure.

_[Right here, right now, this is _

_The beginning of, the end _

_And I won't sing one single thing till we can get this right._

_I'm moving on,_

_I'm moving on]_

The Rock, his opponent, the expected winner of the 'once in a lifetime' match. He stated clearly that he does _not_ like John Cena. Does it keep Rock up at night? No. Does it keep up our favorite Champ at night? No, not so much.

It did in the beginning because, well, he wasn't used to the hate. Getting over it wasn't too hard especially when he thinks back on Punk's words from their feud. _"You'll always have your legion of fans who'll pee in their pajamas every time they see you."_

Small comfort but comfort all the same as he stepped up to his signing table. A group of kids giddy and grinning came up first and it was that enthusiasm that made his day a tad bit brighter. However, the chants of 'Let's go Cena, Cena sucks' that broke out in the event hall were a kind of downer. Like being given hot chocolate by someone and then they go and dump ice water on you. Repeatedly.

_[Hey mom I wrote you some soft songs._

_And tell dad I'm just fine._

_We had to choose, we made our moves _

_And now we gotta go, go.]_

The signings always took _forever_ and the lack of sleep wasn't exactly keeping Johnny in a ship shape mood. In fact, he felt cranky as hell. He made it known on the way back to the hotel in his car. The driver kindly ignored his attitude, which John apologized for later, and the cameraman filming him for the 'before Wrestlemania video diary' chuckled nervously.

He felt so out of place and awkward walking into the arena as it was being prepared for the Hall of Fame ceremony. He'd gotten dressed in a suit earlier but let's face it, he's got a bit too much bulk to look anywhere near normal in a monkey suit. It's like trying to make a ballerina where a combat suit six times too big. Except…the opposite? Even he's confusing himself now. John Cena, the new poster child for sleep deprivation effects!

Coffee. He really needed some coffee or he was gonna keel during this little get together. He wants to be there for Edge, the Four Horsemen, and whoever else but damn, if he can stay awake it'll be a miracle. Wow, he's kinda going off path with the PG thing in his mind… weird. Okay, coffee before he goes crazy. With that thought, he ran past a couple people coming in to a drink vending machine.

_[Everything about me seemed so much different when I was young._

_I couldn't wait to take my place_

_Five years have passed._

_Good god have I been gone?_

_So why, I've never felt so alone in my whole life._

_Times not on my side.]_

Sure enough, coffee (bad but coffee all the same) was dispensed into a cup and it was _strong_. Maybe six 'o' clock was a little too late for caffeine but whatever. Can't fall asleep on live TV!

As much as it worked, it made things a little worse. The ceremony dragged on and on. All John could keep his mind on was the match tomorrow. This day was from hell! Of course, he still grinned, still shook hands, still made polite conversation, but for what? By tomorrow evening he'd just be another wash out. The People's Champion against the Underdog. Yeah, guess who's which. Not how he liked it but that didn't matter.

The People's Champion is who matters! It's his last true hurrah! He's beaten Stone Cold, Hulk Hogan, and now he's going to beat John Cena. Those legions of fans will abandon him for the next hero. Then what will he have left?

When did he become so dependant on others' approval?

_[Hey mom I wrote you some soft songs.  
>And tell dad I'm just fine.<br>We had to choose, we made our move  
>And now we gotta go,<br>And why's this make me so nervous?  
>Why does everything go wrong?<br>Why's this make me so nervous?  
>Why does everything go wrong?]<em>

Why _does_ everything go so wrong? He'd been great; ten time world champ! Now, he's a goddamn Fruity Pebble! How did this happen? When did the downward spiral begin? He's always been more of an optimist but…there wasn't much effort left in him.

Even as he got ready for bed, which would take awhile since he can't sleep (coffee's a bad addiction), John's mind worked over time. Could he do it? Did he believe in _himself_ to win? What if he couldn't? What if he _could_? If he loses will he hang up his job? Retire at thirty-four? Wait and do it at thirty-five?

_[I'm holding on to a fairytale,  
>Were movin foward but we're not there yet.]<em>

"No, no I couldn't do that," he assures himself but that doesn't help him from having horrible nightmares filled with failure when he did fall asleep.

They say dreams are a warning of what's to come. Just one of those days, right? Right?

* * *

><p><strong>AN Haha I loved writing Cena's chapter. It made me laugh quite a few times.**

**Review?**


	9. Zack Ryder

**A/N Dang it! I keep forgetting to put who's next! Oh well, this is Zack Ryder's chapter. WOO WOO WOO! :D**

* * *

><p><strong>Song: Little Lion Man – Mumford &amp; Sons<strong>

* * *

><p><em>[Weep for yourself, my man,<br>You'll never be what is in your heart  
>Weep Little Lion Man,<br>You're not as brave as you were at the start]_

So much for everything going right. He'd truly had his heart ripped out, stomped on, and given back only for the process to repeat itself. Yeah, woo, woo, woo… What had he been thinking? "You're not Zack Ryder; you're just stupid old Matt Cardona. What made you think you could manage any of this shit?"

He'd always had this little problem of self negative talk and it wasn't going away anytime soon. No matter how many times Cena tried to comfort him, no matter how many times Eve pretended to apologize, no matter how many times he got cheers from the fans, he still felt like a loser who overestimated his own abilities.

Creating his own championship was plain old ridiculous. He hadn't _actually_ made it up, the WWE did, but he completely blew that up out of proportion. Great job, _Broski._ God, that was just so stupid. He was in no way a real bro at all.

_[Rate yourself and rake yourself,  
>Take all the courage you have left<br>Wasted on fixing all the problems  
>That you made in your own head]<em>

Of course, being team Teddy was likely to be a bad idea if they is a true captain douchebag and it's doubtful he'll be merciful on anybody that wasn't on his team. But Zack is a face and the face can't choose the heel team just to be safe. Not after Captain Douche put him in danger when he actually wasn't cleared to wrestle.

The thing with Eve wasn't a big help either. He actually liked her and what did she do? First, she got him injured. Second, she betrayed him by kissing John. Third, she flat out said it was all a lie. An fourth, she totally wanted to shit talk him!

He should've stuck to being a partner with Curt Hawkins. Yeah, back when they partnered up with Edge. That was a good time. Not this bullshit stuff Creative is coming up with while he sits in an uncomfortable chair listening partly. They act like he has no choice and if you think about it, he doesn't.

_[But it was not your fault but mine  
>And it was your heart on the line<br>I really fucked it up this time  
>Didn't I, my dear?<br>Didn't I, my...]_

Wahoo. He get's to receive a beating a Wrestlemania. Yeah, glad Creative cleared all that up. Zack was dismissed and left the meeting room as fast as possible. None of the stars really like to 'hang out' in Creative except maybe Christian and Dolph and everybody knows they're searching for attention. As if Dolph's bright bleach blonde hair wasn't attention grabbing enough.

"So, how'd it go? Get everything for Wrestlemania cleared up?" Sometimes Cena's questioning got on his nerves. Thankfully, he wanted somebody to rant to right now and he didn't quite feel lie strangling one of his best friends.

"Y'know what? It was stupid. I get to have Eve kick my ass, oh excuse me, _my nuts_, during Wrestlemania because they want to further her storyline. So I get screwed just…just _because!_" Ryder threw his hands up in the air with major frustration.

_[Tremble for yourself, my man,_

_You know that you have seen this all before_

_Tremble, little lion man,_

_You'll never settle any of your scores]_

"It'll get better, man, I promise," John said, patting Ryder on the back. Thinking back to before Eve's betrayal, Zack wondered if he should even trust John anymore. But then again, Cena had done some serious promoting and defending for his stupid ass so he shouldn't question it. See, right there, that's the self-negative talk because now he's so paranoid that he's questioning his best friend's kind intentions.

Zack nodded absently to John's words and walked away to go 'mingle' with the fans waiting outside the arena for the show to start later that night. He put on his trademark sunglasses and couldn't help but feel he'd walked straight out of the 80's.

In fact, his whole gimmick was ridiculously similar to his friends' personalities back in college. It's like the WWE hunted down his frat brothers and combined them all into one giant bro character. Sometimes faceplam doesn't describe Ryder's feelings towards his character well enough.

_[Your grace is wasted in your face,_

_Your boldness stands alone among the wreck_

_Now learn from your mother or else spend your days biting your own neck]_

After some flirting with honestly not that gorgeous 'gals', Zack made his way back inside the arena to get ready for his match. John was still sure everything would get better after WM but Zack himself wasn't so convinced.

Creative had conveniently said nothing on his part of the storyline so it was all up in the air. Like now, as he goes out to wrestle some guy and ends up losing. He was close to winning actually but then it all went wrong as he caught a hard kick in the ribs. Setting him up for losing at WM apparently because his opponent apologized backstage.

'Sorry' really doesn't fix anything though, does it? Sorry didn't help when Eve decided to kiss John. Sorry didn't help when Laurenaitus sent him out with damaged ribs. Sorry absolutely didn't help when Kane threw him through a wooden platform. Yeah, and he wasn't sorry for anything right at this moment as he glared at everyone on the way to the hotel.

_[But it was not your fault but mine_

_And it was your heart on the line_

_I really fucked it up this time_

_Didn't I, my dear?]_

His bed wasn't as welcoming as he'd hoped it would be. His ribs still stung just a tad from earlier and his mind wouldn't shut off. Instead, it fueled the anger that was building up in his heart. He gritted his teeth and his fists, neither a good idea but what the heck? He can get anything fixed by the company doctor except for his pride.

Pride was something he'd had to swallow fairly often recently. Ever since the stupid bro gimmick had started he realized his true pride had gone out the window. Goodnight Long Island Iced Z. No matter what you do, you'll still wake up as Matt Cardona.

* * *

><p><strong>AN Man, that was sad. I love Zack cause he's so well…him. But with everything that's happened in his storyline since the end of last year, you have to wonder if he get's pissed.**

**Okay, I'm finishing this series up after this with Sheamus, then Undertaker, and finally Shawn Michaels. I hope everybody has enjoyed reading this series as much as I have writing it.**

**~DeAngelo'sMuse**


	10. Sheamus

**A/N Okay, I admit to having brainstormed this idea with my brother (check out his story under the username **RelayJumper **if you liked the video game Mass Effect). He thought these were getting too sad so he gave me an idea that was frankly hilarious.**

**I hope you all enjoy this and thank you to all the reviewers!**

* * *

><p><strong>Song: Right Place, Wrong Time – Dr. John<strong>

* * *

><p><em>[I been in the right place but it must have been the wrong time<em>

_I'd have said the right thing but I must have used the wrong line_

_I been in the right trip but I must have used the wrong car_

_My head was in a bad place and I'm wondering what it's good for_

_I been the right place but it must have been the wrong time_

_My head was in a bad place but I'm having such a good time]_

Oh boy had he been wrong earlier. It was indeed a fact that he, Sheamus, did not tan. He should never and will never again agree to go out to the beach with Zack again. No, that was an absolute no. Not if it was going to end up this way.

"Sheamo! How are ya, buddy?" called a distinctly Chicagoan voice. Punk walked up behind the clothed Irishman and clapped his hand on Sheamus' back. The Great White stiffened but kept his resolve. Punk didn't know. It wasn't his fault but it hurt like a bitch. "Something wrong? I don't think anybody's ever taken a pat on the back that seriously." Punk's raised eyebrow called for an answer.

"Nah, absolutely fine, Brooks. Nothin to worry yerself about," Sheamus laughed, his mood was quite the opposite however. Storm clouds liked to find him when he was in the best of moods. This mother of all sunburns he was sporting wasn't much help either.

_[I been running trying to get hung up in my mind_

_Got to give myself a good talking-to this time_

_Just need a little brain salad surgery_

_Got to cure my insecurity]_

Punk wandered off while the Celtic Warrior tried his hardest to keep moving through the pain. On his way to the meeting with make-up (they'd been meaning to talk to him anyway), Sheamus was greeted by Miz. They weren't the best of friends but they were friends all the same.

"Uh, I don't mean to be rude and all but uh…you're kinda…sunburned," Miz stumbled over his words, not sure whether to laugh or forget the topic. Sheamus was indeed quite red and Punk must not have noticed.

"Really, I hadn't noticed. I thought maybe I'd gotten a little color on me but maybe I was just looking at myself in the mirror wrong," Sheamus chuckled and Miz laughed as well. The sarcasm was friendly enough but the sunburn was really starting to hurt and he still needed to get to make-up.

_[I been in the wrong place but it must have been the right time_

_I been in the right place but it must have been the wrong song_

_I been in the right vein but it seems like the wrong arm_

_I been in the right world but it seems wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong]_

"What in the hell have you done?" Casey, the head of make-up, screeched when Sheamus pulled off his shirt. He was red as a goddamn lobster! Casey pressed to fingers into his skin and he winced horribly. "Did you decide to try tanning for some reason?"

"Tanning my arse! This was from a day at the beach. I burn. I don't tan," Sheamus growled and Casey sent him a chilling look. "Look, I'll take a bath in Aloe or somethin and then you can paint me white."

"You sure as hell better hope that works. That's going to hurt even more in the ring," Casey smirked, hands on her hips. He shook his head with a scowl and walked back out fully clothed. The next person to touch his sunburn would get a Brogue Kick to their happy bits.

Unless that person was Shawn Michaels, which it was. How can you kick such an awesome and nice guy? Thankfully, it was a light pat on the shoulder and even an added suggestion of a lukewarm shower instead of a cold one.

_[Slipping dodging sneaking creeping hiding out down the street_

_See me life shaking with every ho' I meet_

_Refried confusion is making itself clear_

_Wonder which way do I go to get on out of here]_

Lesson learned. You can be pale as a sheet of paper or dark as chocolate but you WILL still get burned if you don't use sunscreen or just plain old don't go in the sun.

Sheamus learned that lesson well and he also learned that people who poke your sunburn should get punched in the face. A few other people may have learned that lesson as well.

* * *

><p><strong>AN Short but I thought it was worth it. I was getting kinda depressed by how sad all the chapters were so I thought light hearted would be best. Plus, I can't really imagine Sheamus having a truly bad day…**

**Review if you would like :)**

**Oh! Side note, I said I would be done after this chapter, Undertaker, and Shawn Michaels BUT I want to do a second one for Miz because I just have the most perfect idea. After that, I will _actually_ be done.**


	11. Undertaker

**A/N Okay, I'm doing something different this time. First, the song I'm using makes absolutely no sense being paired with this chapter or person. Second, I'm tired of the melancholy chapters so this is going to be funny and basically writing crack. SO, look forward to puppies, children, and Undertaker being OOC! **

**Warning: This makes zero sense. Enjoy.**

* * *

><p><strong>Song: That's Life – Frank Sinatra (Cause I love this song)<strong>

* * *

><p><em>[That's life, that's what people say.<br>You're riding high in April,  
>Shot down in May.<br>But I know I'm gonna change their tune,  
>When I'm right back on top in June.]<em>

Mark Callaway couldn't be any scarier than when he goes by his assumed persona 'The Undertaker'. Dark black hair, black long coat, eyes rolled backwards; who wouldn't want to run?

The answer to that is simple. As Mark took a walk in a park dressed in civilian attire, he came upon something he couldn't avoid. Even the undertaker can't avoid a puppy. It looked up at him with sad eyes, plopping down next to a bench. He bent down and stroked it's head, wondering why on Earth it wouldn't have a collar. This thing was adorable and it took to Undertaker quickly. Sure, Mark scares children and grown men alike but he can't faze a puppy.

_[That's life, funny as it seems.  
>Some people get their kicks,<br>Steppin' on dreams  
>But I just can't let it get me down,<br>Cause this big old world keeps spinnin' around.]_

Oh, this puppy adored him. As he turned to just leave it there, it began to follow him through the park. He tried shooing it multiple times to no avail. Maybe he'd just…_play_ with it for a bit. It had a tennis ball in it's mouth so it must be _somebody's_ dog.

He again stroked it's soft fur and patted it gently on the head. People passing by paid him no attention so he grabbed the ball and tossed it. There was a few seconds as Mark waited for the puppy to come back. While it was waiting at his feet for the next throw, he took out his phone a snapped a quick picture of the adorable little thing.

_[I've been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate,  
>A poet, a pawn and a king.<br>I've been up and down and over and out  
>But I know one thing:<br>Each time I find myself flat on my face,  
>I pick myself up and get back in the race.]<em>

If nobody claimed it, he could always…well, _keep_ it. But where would he put it? He's on tour to do appearances and he can't just send it home to Nevada. Wouldn't it get lonely if he wasn't there to play with it?

As he played with the dog, a family walked over and a small child rushed towards the dog. "Pawprint! I've been looking for you girl!" the small boy chimed, hugging the animal to his body. "Thanks, Mister. I've been looking for my dog all day!" Mark was a little taken aback. He'd been enjoying his time with 'Pawprint' and even considered taking the puppy home.

_[That's life, I can't deny it,  
>I thought of quitting,<br>But my heart just won't buy it.  
>Cause if I didn't think it was worth a try,<br>I'd have to roll myself up in a big ball and die.]_

Pawprint wandered over to the Undertaker and sat at his feet, dropping the ball. The Deadman bent down and looked into the puppy's face. Its sad brown eyes watched him as he patted it on the head one last time. He stood up and scooted the dog with his foot towards its owner.

"Here's your dog," he mumbled and turned. The kid jumped up and down but he ignored it, choosing to walk out of the park and back to his hotel. That never happened and would never be mentioned again. EVER.

* * *

><p><strong>AN Told you it would be random as hell. Anyways, I know this one sucks but oh well, the Shawn Michaels one will be much better. I just didn't have any ideas for this one.**

**Still going to do Miz Part 2!**

**Review:)**_  
><em>


	12. Shawn Michaels

**A/N Hey everyone. I'm so sorry I'm taking so long to update Grow A Set and Follow Me Home but I really want to get this series done! I love it but I'm at the end. This was supposed to be the last one (Shawn Michaels) but as I said, there's another Miz one. Please don't give up on my other stories. The chapters are almost done, I swear! :)**

* * *

><p><strong>Song: Beginning of the End – Into Eternity (It's metal but hey, it fits.)<strong>

* * *

><p><em>[The legend brings forth a time to come<em>

_No reason to slay the newborn son]_

This was too much for a man of his age! Too much stress on his usually peaceful mind. Why he'd been told to do this and _agreed_ was something he couldn't remember clearly. Maybe he wanted to support Hunter, feel the lights centered on him, or he quite possibly might've wanted to support the Deadman.

So here he is, Shawn "HBK" Michaels as the referee for the 'End of an Era' match. You see, the problem is that it doesn't really matter who wins. It all ends for them anyways. He'll go back to his ranch; Hunter will run the company and for all intensive purposes, Undertaker will go back to Death Valley to retire.

_[The sky is falling_

_No escape Armageddon_

_The sky is burning_

_The end is just the beginning]_

As he watched Hunter, he noticed the complete loss of control. Both Hunter and the Deadman refused to listen to his pleas for them to stop. Hunter was right; the only way to end this is to end one or the other. There's no way it can happen though. If the streak ends, so does Undertaker. If Hunter can't do it then he's done. They're all…done.

Shawn pushed Hunter away, dropping to the mat so he could talk to Undertaker. "Do you want me to take you out?"

"No! Go away, Shawn," was the gruff reply he got before he was shoved back, unsure what to do. Seconds later and the two opponents were dancing around each other in the ring.

_[Burning dead send swirling victims_

_Ending_

_Lights fade away_

_You're searching for your soul_

_Beginning of the end]_

Shawn has a role to play. It was the role of supportive best friend. But it was also to be a fair ref. The emotional turmoil within all three men in the Hell in A Cell was astounding and overwhelming.

He couldn't help the small feeling that he seriously missed the serenity of his retirement.

_[Invasions dark armies armed with hate_

_An ancient world rises once again]_

As he crouched in the corner of the ring with his eyes squeezed shut, he blocked out the brutal fight being waged. There was a strange urge to do s_omething _when he saw Hunter still on the floor with a Deadman walking towards him. He was quick as lightning, knowing he'd regret doing this in the first place.

As he struck with 'Sweet Chin Music', he realized this had only hurt Hunter's ego even more. "_You_ finish him," Hunter yelled, pointing at the now grounded Undertaker. All he'd done was get a slight bit of revenge on the man who sent him into retirement…

_[Eradication of the mind_

_Beginning of the end_

_No escape Armageddon]_

Shawn could only watch as Triple H let out one last act of defiance with half-hearted pride, a mirror to their DX days. The crotch chop was the last thing they did when there was no way to win. When you're done.

It was over, the streak cemented in history. 20-0. They all shared a respectful and friendly enough hug at the end but it was still the conclusion to their time in the light. What could he do? HBK was history and now there's no coming back. Does he just go home? Dare say he help Triple H?

There was nothing except their history and that's what they had. The fans kept that in their hearts but…that's it? The grand conclusion. They'd changed the business but now it was time for the next generation of rebels.

Goodbye, Hunter. Goodbye D Generation X. Goodbye Undertaker.

Goodbye HBK. One of those days had become one of those years.

* * *

><p><strong>AN Not much to say.**


	13. The Miz II

**A/N This is….the LAST chapter D: I hope everybody enjoyed this little series ^_^ I know I enjoyed writing it! I now have a whole playlist with meaning behind it! Anyways, here is Miz II for everybody who loves our favorite 'Awwwwesoommme' superstar. What would we do if we didn't have a star who could pull off the fohawk?**

**Enjoy~DeAngelo'sMuse**

* * *

><p><strong>Song: Pain – Jimmy Eat World<strong>

* * *

><p><em>[I don't feel the way I've ever felt.<em>

_I know._

_I'm gonna smile and not get worried._

_I try but it shows.]_

Oh, how could she _do_ this to him? What had he done to deserve this treatment? Maryse, the gorgeous blonde French-Canadian, had simply turned his world upside down and stabbed him through the heart. He had to walk away and now she was doing this on purpose. There, standing with his former best friend Alex Riley, she batted her eyelashes.

He couldn't believe this. It was all a lie. She'd admitted to their relationship being something other than affection and sex. It'd been great, he wanted more. She couldn't commit so she pushed him away. It was his choice to leave. That pain was unbearable but it all seemed to be in vain now.

_[Anyone can make what I have built._

_And better now_

_Anyone can find the same white pills._

_It takes my pain away.]_

Mike gritted his teeth, eyes seared with the betraying image. He wouldn't let it bother him. No, he'd be strong. But how could he when all his strength has been stolen, left him weak and with his tail between his legs? The answer is in the form of work. He'd throw himself into his job and really get the boos he needs as a heel.

The cracks in his façade were so easily spotted. She'd gotten under his skin and tore away at his soul. How would he ever be in one piece again? After everything it was him that was in pieces of himself, not her. He left and it mattered as much a penny does to a billionaire.

_[It's a lie. A kiss with open eyes_

_And she's not breathing back._

_Anything but bother me._

_(It takes my pain away)_

_Nevermind these are hurried times._

_Oh oh oh_

_I can't let it bother me.]_

Alex Riley would be the one to target. If he could not get back at Maryse directly, he would do so through Riley. Neither were true friends to him, leaving an aching loneliness in his shattered heart. Losing a friend is one thing. Losing two close ones was devastating on it's own level.

Hadn't he'd done it to himself, though? Walking out was his choice but he was unsettled by the thought of that being a bad choice. Could he have accepted having less than what he wanted from the gorgeous blonde? All these questions made his head ache unpleasantly.

_[I never thought I'd walk away from you._

_I did._

_But it's a false sense of accomplishment._

_Every time I quit]_

He felt so open and exposed for all to see. Lonely Michael Mizanin couldn't get his act together and lost his hot girlfriend. In this bar he sat in, he imagined the eyes of so many onlookers who assumed they understood. Did they know or was it his overactive and wounded ego?

His ego shouldn't be wounded. It was Maryse's fault and he knew that. Believing it was a different problem. He didn't want to blame her completely. It was his fault…sort of. But he couldn't really deny that she could've given him more. She wanted other things and he…well, he wanted to settle.

_[Anyone can see my every flaw._

_It isn't hard._

_Anyone can say they're above this all._

_It takes my pain away.]_

Alcohol seemed the best option to drown his sorrows. He felt pathetic. Here he is, famous as hell, women falling at his feet, and he can't get over one bad break up. He should be given the world's most pathetic loser award. What would his family think of him now?

He glanced to his right when somebody sat down. A complete stranger who sent him a kind smile and ordered herself a martini. This woman didn't know him, he could tell by her kindness. "Rough day?"

"More like rough year," he replied, sipping on his beer. She nodded, sipping her own drink lightly. He couldn't understand her blissful ignorance to his reputation.

"Whatever it is will work out," she said after finishing her drink, winking before she walked away. He watched her leave and glanced at that bartender who shrugged. Maybe…things were just a little off tilt that day?

* * *

><p><strong>AN So...last chapter. I know it sounds like rambling but that's how I imagined him thinking when feeling this out of it.**

**ANYWAYS, thank you to all my readers and reviewers, I love you all :)**

**I have a new story I am going to start with this one's ending so look forward to it :D**


End file.
